A Thought Or Two On Reading Pomfret's Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Rhyme Scheme: AABCDEFFGHHIIJJKL MMNNOOPQRRBBPPSTUUVV RRWWRRXX YZA2A2B2B2C2D2E2E2F2 F2G2G2RRH2H2RRI2I2RR RRAAJ2J2K2K2L2L2H2M2 N2N2J2J2O2O2P2P2RRA2 A2RRQ2Q2Q2NNVVA2RRR2 R2S2S2T2T2RRRRRR

I have been reading Pomfret's Choice this springA
A pretty kind of sort of kind of thingA
Not much a verse and poem none at allB
Yet as they say extremely naturalC
And yet I know not There's an art in piesD
In raising crusts as well as galleriesE
And he's the poet more or less who knowsF
The charm that hallows the least truth from proseF
And dresses it in its mild singing clothesG
Not oaks alone are trees nor roses flowersH
Much humble wealth makes rich this world of oursH
Nature from some sweet energy throws upI
Alike the pine mount and the buttercupI
And truth she makes so precious that to paintJ
Either shall shrine an artist like a saintJ
And bring him in his turn the crowds that pressK
Round Guido's saints or Titian's goddessesL
-
Our trivial poet hit upon a themeM
Which all men love an old sweet household dreamM
Pray reader what is yours I know full wellN
What sort of home should grace my garden bellN
No tall half furnish'd gloomy shivering houseO
That worst of mountains labouring with a mouseO
Nor should I choose to fill a tawdry niche inP
A Grecian temple opening to a kitchenQ
The frogs in Homer should have had such boxesR
Or Aesop's frog whose heart was like the ox'sR
Such puff about high roads so grand so smallB
With wings and what not portico and allB
And poor drench'd pillars which it seems a sinP
Not to mat up at night time or take inP
I'd live in none of those Nor would I haveS
Veranda'd windows to forestall my graveT
Veranda'd truly from the northern heatU
And cut down to the floor to comfort one's cold feetU
My house should be of brick more wide than highV
With sward up to the path and elm trees nighV
A good old country lodge half hid with bloomsR
Of honied green and quaint with straggling roomsR
A few of which white bedded and well sweptW
For friends whose name endear'd them should be keptW
The tip toe traveller peeping through the boughsR
O'er my low wall should bless the pleasant houseR
And that my luck might not seem ill bestow'dX
A bench and spring should greet him on the roadX
-
My grounds should not be large I like to goY
To Nature for a range and prospect tooZ
And cannot fancy she'd comprise for meA2
Even in a park her all sufficiencyA2
Besides my thoughts fly far and when at restB2
Love not a watch tow'r but a lulling nestB2
A Chiswick or a Chatsworth might I grantC2
Visit my dreams with an ambitious wantD2
But then I should be forc'd to know the weightE2
Of splendid cares new to my former stateE2
And these 'twould far more fit me to admireF2
Borne by the graceful ease of noblest DevonshireF2
Such grounds however as I had should lookG2
Like something still have seats and walks and brookG2
One spot for flowers the rest all turf and treesR
For I'd not grow my own bad lettucesR
I'd build a cover'd path too against rainH2
Long peradventure as my whole domainH2
And so be sure of generous exerciseR
The youth of age and med'cine of the wiseR
And this reminds me that behind some screenI2
About my grounds I'd have a bowling greenI2
Such as in wits' and merry women's daysR
Suckling preferr'd before his walk of baysR
You may still see them dead as haunts of fairiesR
By the old seats of Killigrews and CareysR
Where all alas is vanish'd from the ringA
Wits and black eyes the skittles and the kingA
Fishing I hate because I think about itJ2
Which makes it right that I should do without itJ2
A dinner or a death might not be muchK2
But cruelty's a rod I dare not touchK2
I own I cannot see my right to feelL2
For my own jaws and tear a trout's with steelL2
To troll him here and there and spike and strainH2
And let him loose to jerk him back againM2
Fancy a preacher at this sort of workN2
Not with his trout or gudgeon but his clerkN2
The clerk leaps gaping at a tempting bitJ2
And hah an ear ache with a knife in itJ2
That there is pain and evil is no ruleO2
That I should make it greater like a foolO2
Or rid me of my rust so vile a wayP2
As long as there's a single manly playP2
Nay fool 's a word my pen unjustly writesR
Knowing what hearts and brains have dozed o'er bitesR
But the next inference to be drawn might beA2
That higher beings made a trout of meA2
Which I would rather should not be the caseR
Though Isaak were the saint to tear my faceR
And stooping from his heaven with rod and lineQ2
Made the fell sport with his old dreams divineQ2
As pleasant to his taste as rough to mineQ2
Such sophistry no doubt saves half the hellN
But fish would have preferr'd his reasoning wellN
And if my gills concern'd him so should IV
The dog I grant is in that equal skyV
But heaven be prais'd he's not my deityA2
All manly games I'd play at golf and quoitsR
And cricket to set lungs and limbs to rightsR
And make me conscious with a due respectR2
Of muscles one forgets by long neglectR2
With these or bowls aforesaid and a rideS2
Books music friends the day I would divideS2
Most with my family but when aloneT2
Absorb'd in some new poem of my ownT2
A task which makes my time so richly passR
So like a sunshine cast through painted glassR
Save where poor Captain Sword crashes the panesR
That cold my friends live too and were the gainsR
Of toiling men but freed from sordid fearsR
Well could I walk this earth a thousand yearsR

James Henry Leigh Hunt



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